


The Shape Hunts

by AngelicEclair



Series: Final Girl [8]
Category: Halloween Movies - All Media Types
Genre: Erotic Horror, F/M, Gory Imagery, Hospital, Predator/Prey, Rape/Non-con Elements, Stalking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-17
Updated: 2020-12-17
Packaged: 2021-03-11 05:14:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,827
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28119741
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AngelicEclair/pseuds/AngelicEclair
Summary: The Reader is a nurse at Haddonfield Memorial working on Halloween Night, 1978. Unbeknown to her, there is a patient who was admitted before her shift began that is drawing a force of nature to her quiet ward.
Relationships: Michael Myers/Original Female Character(s), Michael Myers/Reader, Michael Myers/You
Series: Final Girl [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1674658
Comments: 2
Kudos: 78





	The Shape Hunts

**Author's Note:**

> This takes place during the events of the original Halloween II (1981).

(Y/N) pulled into her usual parking spot, car glistening silver in the light of the mercury street lamps. There were only five other cars in the employee-reserved lot. Sighing to herself, she knew she would have her work cut out for her long into the early hours. She bowed out of the car with her purse, haloed by the amber sodium light of the 'Emergency' sign. Her white shoes clacked against the asphalt, the only sound in the world.

Across the street, beneath weathered oak beside a stoplight buzzing like a trapped insect, The Shape stood as motionless as a cutout. Behind him, on children-less porches, there sat candlelit pumpkins still strobing to ward off evil spirits. After the events of that night, it seemed like cruel mockery. Danger did not come in undead form; it was alive and very human.

Michael lumbered behind (Y/N), still keeping distance between them, his form casting a peculiar ripple along the chrome of the cars at the edge of the lot, coming to a halt at the left rear fender of (Y/N)'s own. The reflection was distorted but held the anamorphic image, head tilted to one side. She had piqued his curiosity. The Shape's mask appeared in the car's outside rearview mirror, bleached by moonlight like a skull cameo.

After (Y/N) clocked in, she spoke with the head night nurse and promptly began her rounds. (Y/N) was the quiet, respectful, dutiful type, reminiscent in some ways to the maternal, studious Laurie. A prime target for Michael's unbridled obsession.

The Shape wandered down empty hallways, seeming to leave them dimmer in his wake. It wanted Laurie, but a wolf was weak without a pack. Eliminating all possibilities of help would keep her deliciously hopeless. Howling and howling, but no one responding.

As The Shape crept undetected, it could feel Laurie, who lay in her bed, staring up at the ceiling before feigning sleep as her door inched open. (Y/N) peered in, making sure the girl was still asleep in her bed. 

She looked as peaceful as she could, given the situation. Ducking out and latching it shut again, (Y/N) tried to shake the feeling of eyes burning into the back of her head.

Laurie immediately sat up, trying not to rustle the sheets too loudly. Someone was coming, she could feel it, through the floor and up through the stiff sheets. The solution in the IV bag began to jitter and the tube fed into her arm began to sway. She could feel his approach like fire in her blood.

As (Y/N) continued her rounds, antiseptic-green walls fell away into shadow. Corridors intersected in near-darkness. A water cooler hummed, chilling downdrafts of air into frost across the floor. She knew they were short-staffed, but she hadn't seen a single nurse since the head nurse that night.

(Y/N) reached the next door, which was curiously ajar. Perhaps the patient had a question for the front desk. Still, that was what the call-button by his bedside was for. Upon entering, her heart calmed at the lump in the bed. About to check off the criteria on her chart, a dark blotch on the sheets caught her attention. Stepping closer, she squinted down at the splotch.

_Plink. Plink._

(Y/N)'s eyes wandered down to the tile where there was a sizable puddle of blood collecting by the wheels. 

"Sir?!" (Y/N) sputtered out, hands flying up to pull the blanket down. The man's arm flopped over the side of the bed and dangled lifelessly. He had been butchered sloppily. The blood drip intensified alongside (Y/N)'s heartbeat. As she staggered backward, stiff and numb with shock, her back collided with what she thought was the wall. Turning around, a ghastly white mask peered down at her. She noted his size, broadness, and the bloody scalpel in his fist. There was no way she was going to be able to make it out alive.

Shuffling back towards the adjacent wall, she felt hot tears burn their way up. 

"Why?" (Y/N) whispered. Her bladder felt weak as her palms met the solidness of the wall behind her. Michael stepped forward, murky light spilling around his hulking figure. The sex between his legs pulsated unpleasantly. The voice was whispering something to him that he couldn't make out, but he knew that if he waited, it would get louder.

(Y/N), cowering in the corner, tear-blurry eyes, in her all-white uniform, tights, and kitten-heeled shoes made Michael breathe heavily with intense desire. She looked like a hapless little angel who had crashed down from heaven and bumped her head. His hand opened and closed involuntarily on the handle of the scalpel. He wanted to wrack her body with sobs. He wanted to turn her soft beauty into something grotesquely unrecognizable. She needed to be ruined. 

Michael pinned (Y/N) to the wall by her throat, thumb pressing down into her jugular. (Y/N) flailed, sputtering, shoes scuffing the wall, before she took notice that he wasn't squeezing. When she had willed herself to calm down, she hesitantly laid her hand atop his and looked up. The void-filled eye-holes made her heart squeeze.

"I...I won't tell anyone I saw you, okay? Just...go now. Please!"

There was no reply, just breath battering against the inside of the mask. The quiet was enough to give way to the dripping of the blood again.

_Plink. Plink._

(Y/N) stared off at the cooling corpse behind Michael, knowing just as surely as she breathed, she would be next. But, perhaps, her life would be extended just a little while longer. The scalpel clattered to the floor, and Michael's smooth hand jostled beneath the waistband of (Y/N)'s tights and panties. In his 21 years, Michael had never touched a woman so intimately. (Y/N) buckled and whined.

"Please don't do that..."

The Shape's heart pumped with sadistic thrill as she writhed, unintentionally rocking her pussy against his deft fingers. With just how easily she slid against his hand, she knew she was soaked. Fear made her that way. Blood rushed to her head, making her dizzy. Her chest heaved up and down with strain as she steeled herself for the worst. 

How cutely pathetic she was.

After just a moment of grueling stewing in his eyeless stare, Michael's index finger slid down the length of her pussy. He prodded at her hole, smearing her wetness around before growing impatient. (Y/N)'s toes curled in her shoes as Michael filled her to his knuckle, leaning into her body. (Y/N) braced herself by grabbing his arm.

"You have to stop. P-please stop...I...aaah..."

A gasp raked up (Y/N) throat as he ramed one more up inside of her, without a whisper of delicacy. His fingers plunged in and out, her wetness clicking with every curl. (Y/N)'s small hands gripped at his wrist pleadingly, hoping she could get away before she let any moans slip, but her mind was quickly breaking. Drool dribbled from her open lips and down her chin.

Michael's fingers were much larger than her own, rougher, warmer. His movements were unskilled, sloppy, and impatient, but (Y/N)'s hips still began to involuntarily swivel as the pressure in her gut built.

Unwittingly, (Y/N) let her eyes shut. The hand around her throat never squeezed but merely stayed put as a threat, a reminder. The hand in her panties kept exploring, trying out a scissoring motion.

Just as the world was melting away and (Y/N) was cresting the hill, it stopped. Her wet pussy cold and empty.

Mewling at the sudden loss of sensation, (Y/N) opened her eyes to see Michael examining his fingers. The way the gossamer strings of fluid thin and break apart as he spread his fingers was almost hypnotic. 

Coming back to her senses, (Y/N) found the moment of distraction opportune for slipping out of his hold. Forcing all her weight forward, she broke free from Michael's grip and skittered to the sharps disposal container on the opposite wall. As Michael approached, she grabbed handfuls of used needles. Despite being in a jerky panic, she managed to uncap most of them. Rushing forward, she met Michael in the middle of the room and jammed them all into his exposed neck.

The Shape struggled briefly before crumpling to his knees.

(Y/N) rushed out of the room, nearly tripping over her own feet. 

When she reached the front desk, no one was there. 

The reception area was hauntingly dim. Charts and pencils were strewn over the counter haphazardly. Supply cupboards in the triage room hung open, exposing rolls of gauze dressing.

(Y/N) tried the phone. Despite dialing 911, there was only silence on the other end. She tried once again and then her home number. The line must have been cut.

Not waiting around for The Shape to recover, (Y/N) flew into the breakroom, feeling exposed and under a hundred firey eyes like a lab rat in a cage as she ripped her purse from the cubby. As (Y/N) turned around, she crashed head-first into a solid shadow, the force making her teeth crash together, sending hot waves of pain from her gums down to her clavicle. Huge hands clamped down on her shoulders like a vice and spun her down, forcing her body onto a table in the middle of the room. She opened her mouth to scream, but the darkness where The Shape's eyes should have been snaked out like an invisible force to freeze her.

Just over the pounding of her heart in her burning ears, she heard the TV:

"REPEATING FOR THOSE OF YOU WHO JUST TUNED IN. THREE PEOPLE ARE DEAD TONIGHT AS THE RESULT OF AN ATTACK BY AN ESCAPED MENTAL PATIENT,-

A burning-hot hand clamped down around her throat.

"-MICHAEL MYERS, WHO FLED THE SMITH'S GROVE-WARREN COUNTY SANITARIUM LAST NIGHT..."

(Y/N)'s hands flew up to claw at his, kicking mercilessly at his kneecaps, but he didn't budge.

"...THREE BODIES WERE DISCOVERED IN THE UPSTAIRS BEDROOM OF THE HOUSE DIRECTLY BEHIND ME. IDENTIFICATION OF THE VICTIMS IS BEING WITHHELD PENDING NOTIFICATION OF THE . . ."

Utterly unphased by her struggles, Michael simply forced his way inside her thighs, leaving her legs to kick at the air. Then, his terrible hands splayed across her middle. His heavy breathing seemed to echo behind the mask.

His hands stretched around her waist, holding her there for a long moment. His stomach churned hotly, and the voice began to degrade him, but his erection still strained against his coveralls.

"Please...whatever you're going to do to me. Just get it over with. I can't handle the waiting."

She heaved beneath his hands, sucking in terrified breaths faster and faster as he pushed more of his weight on her. 

One of his big hands cast down to her upper thigh, feeling the softness of her tights, before sliding up, heaping her gown above her hip bones. (Y/N) stared up at the ceiling, florescent lights blurring like watercolor as tears filled her vision again. (Y/N) jumped as her tights were torn away from her lower half by the bent scalpel.

After a long moment of Michael just breathing, her panties were jerked to the side. (Y/N) squeezed her eyes shut until stars filled the blankness, mentally preparing for a white-hot onslaught.

_Ziiiip_

Despite her own advice, (Y/N) began to struggle again, thrashing wildly in his grasp.

"Just kill me! Please, just kill me!"

Heedless of her begging or the challenging tightness of her entrance, Michael forced (Y/N)'s cunt to pop around the head of his intense arousal.

(Y/N) nails dug into the table beneath her. The stretch was tremendously daunting. The burn fills her up, and an ache settles in her overextended hips.

The Shape stilled.

Maybe it's also because he had to get used to the sensation himself, without cumming on the spot. There had only been a couple of times Michael had ever tried to pleasure himself, but the overload of medicine and near-constant surveillance made it more trouble than it was worth.

(Y/N)'s knees knocked as she surrendered to being split open on his cock, but she still cried out for mercy.

"S-stop! You're too big..." She slurred. Her cunt clenched excruciatingly snug around him.

Michael's cock was twitching at the despair, and humiliation in (Y/N)'s teary doe eyes. It was unforgivingly searing.

(Y/N) shook as his covered hips finally collided with her rear, and Michael momentarily broke away from his detached, calloused, aloof-self with a grunt.

And much like all of his actions, Michael began to snap into (Y/N) without warning. His pace was tear-jerkingly brutal, almost inhuman. (Y/N) was taken far past the point of pleasure every time the bulbous head of his cock collided with her cervix. It was as if he was trying to cram past, further into her, stabbing her, skewering her guts. She cried out, trying to roll on her side to scramble away, but Michael simply ripped her hips down on him, her clit colliding with his wiry pubic bush. She squirmed piteously on his shaft, under his unbelievable mass. His body was much denser than it appeared.

He fucked her like she was an amalgamation of all the nurses who tended to him at Smith's Grove, all with their perfect hair, crisp uniforms, and too-happy smiles. None of them understood what lay beneath his head. They got too comfortable when he was doped up, quickly forgetting what he was capable of, even at such a young age. They all made his stomach churn, but his still very human nature deceived him. Confused him. Enraged him. He ached to use and dispose of them, every last one of them, for they were in-flesh representations of his captivity. The need haunted him even more severely as he aged.

Michael used (Y/N)'s pliable body as if she was just a warm, tight fuckdoll whose only purpose in life was clenching down on his cock. Just a means for an end. She knew her cunt would be ruined by the end of it, forever desecrated by his cum.

But she was so very wet despite the fear, perhaps because of it. Her silken slit suctioned to the little bit of Michael's exposed thigh. It was starting to feel...so good. The adrenaline plowing through (Y/N) veins had sponged up all the discomfort. Now, she was high.

Similarly, Michael was finally beginning to feel alive again; the feeling of warm blood on his hands and a tight cunt gripping him was melting away the frost, chipping away the haziness. He could feel his heartbeat again, and it was driving through his ribs. Sedatives and antipsychotics were flushing from his system, and he chased his first orgasm in ages. 

He grabbed (Y/N) beneath her thighs and folded her legs back as far as they would go, effectively bending her in half and fucking her as fast as he could manage. She cried out, her entire body rocking with the force of his. The looming force's pace was dizzying as he swelled hotly, nearing release. 

And it barreled into him, knocking the wind out of him. His cum emptied inside of (Y/N). Her eyes widened, processing what had just been done.

Michael drew back and tucked away his softening cock, zipping himself up. He was already bored with the heap of flesh shivering on the table.

Laurie was nearby; he could feel it.

Michael gripped (Y/N) by the hair and dropped her to the floor.

Cymbals crashed as her skull bounced off the tile of the breakroom, the world leaking out the door with Michael. Then, throbbing blackness.

When (Y/N) awoke, she sat up and noticed a few drops of blood on the tile. Panicked, she ran her fingers against her scalp, frantically checking to see if she had cracked her skull open. Another drop spang down. Her scurrying fingers examined her face, fingertips slipping when they reached her cupid's bow. It was just a nosebleed. 

(Y/N) crawled over to the table to help pull herself back up. Black spots strobed in her vision as she reached full height. Unsteady, removed her shoes, and she shuffled over to the cubbies for her purse, blood smearing over the leather handle as she gripped it. 

In the first gray shining of dawn, curious people descended on the hospital. Sirens whirred in the distance. (Y/N) limped across the asphalt, rocks tearing her thin stockings off her toes, as she carried her patent leather shoes. She shambled forward like a sleepwalker, staring blankly ahead, in a fugue-like state, into the cool, blurring mist of that gray, empty morning. 


End file.
